“Well of course Silva’s a queer girl,” was Rosie’s comment. She added, “She won’t be running down any paths for some time yet I’m afraid, poor thing!” “I think Silva had something to do with that baby,” Arthur guessed shrewdly. “What nonsense!” Rosie said briskly. “What would she be doing taking care of somebody’s baby in the woods?” “But she had a bottle of milk under her arm,” Arthur persisted. “Yes,” Rosie said in an uncertain voice, “and that reminds me that I have seen her before carrying bottles of milk.” “Oh I think somebody’s probably left that baby there for the day,” Laura said, “some tramp--or somebody.” “But it must have been the baby crying that frightened us on the day of the picnic,” Harold declared. “Well then,” Laura explained, “it was the same baby and the same people, whoever they were, left the baby in the cave that day too.” The telephone rang. Arthur answered it. He listened for a moment, then he said, “Yes, of course. We’ll be all right. Tell her not to worry.” He turned to the others. “Poor Granny’s so upset that she wants to stay near the hospital all night, so she can see Mrs. Dore the first thing to-morrow morning. She asked if we could get along by ourselves until Floribel came to-night and of course I said we could.” “Of course we can,” Maida reassured him. “Oh I’m so glad Granny can stay. It does seem as though everything came at once.” “Things go by three’s,” Rosie asserted. “Well what are our three?” Maida inquired. “There was Mrs. Dore’s accident, finding the baby and-- What’s the third?” “You wait,” Rosie prophesied loftily, “It’ll come. But now the thing to do is to get lunch. Thank goodness for all those cooking lessons we’ve had. Don’t you remember, Maida, that your father said that we’d never know when we’d be put in a situation that we’d be very glad we could cook.” “What shall we have for luncheon?” Maida asked and her voice quavered a little. “We’d better look into the ice chest and see what’s there,” suggested the practical Laura. “Oh here’s all this nice stew left over from day before yesterday!” Rosie’s head was concealed by the ice chest door but her tone was that of one who has found diamonds. “That’s nice because all we’ve got to do to that is warm it up. I’ll attend to the stew.” “And here’s some delicious tarts,” Laura exclaimed, “that Granny must have made this morning. We’ll have them for dessert.” “Now while I’m warming the stew,” Rosie commanded, “you two cut the bread; fill the milk pitchers and put the butter on the table.” When they summoned the others to lunch, they found the seats all changed about. This was the work of the practical Rosie. “You must each of you take care of one of the children,” Rosie explained. “Now all of you begin buttering the bread while I am dishing out the stew.” Laura had Betsy, and Dicky, Delia. Harold had one of the Clark twins and Laura the other. Maida took care of both Timmie and Molly; so that Rosie had nothing to do but serve.